


Nimble Fingers and Good Vibrations

by riordanno



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ? - Freeform, College AU, Deaf!Jean, Erei - Freeform, M/M, i dont know what else to tag this, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riordanno/pseuds/riordanno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco can't seem to stop staring at that guy across the Library, even after he makes an ass of himself the first time they speak. **AN: THIS FIC IS ON HIATUS! I am currently re-working it and hope to have a new version of it posted within the next few months. Thank you for your patience!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Staring is Rude (I Highly Recommend It)

Marco almost spilled his coffee all over his textbooks because of his curiosity.

Curiosity, as it was, killed the cat, and almost ruined his work.

He quickly recovered from the almost trip, still staring at what had caused his fumble in the first place. He blushed, though he figured nobody had seen him run into the back of his chair anyway. Definitely not that guy. The one who Marco had noticed upon returning from a caffeine run.

The one who’s back Marco was currently staring at.

The one with the messy ash hair and dyed undercut.

The one so furiously engrossed in his notes it gave Marco a headache looking at how still the guy was.

Again, Marco’s coffee almost painted his books a light brown as his grip on the paper cup went lax. He swore, and corrected himself by finally setting the drink down. He looked up to the guy again expecting him to have moved, even just a little bit, at Marco’s exclamation.

Surprisingly, the young man hadn’t even looked up.

He sighed, internally chastising himself for being so weird about this guy. Staring was rude. Who stares at someone so much that they end up almost dropping their ridiculously expensive coffee?

_Twice?_

‘Apparently me,’ Marco thought, chuckling a bit as he sat down. The whole ordeal _was_ humorous. He reached out to the first textbook, which had been thankfully bookmarked by Armin before they left for the Café. After opening the book to the first tab, however, Marco noticed he had no interest in reading about the life of Shakespeare or any related works and instead found himself staring at the guy again.

Why was he so infuriatingly interesting?

Tucking his hand under his chin, Marco continued to watch the young man. He made note of the hoodie he was wearing: obviously a size or two too big, the trademark dark green of the school, and embroidered with a name on the back across the top of the school’s insignia.

“Kirstein..” he mouthed. “Huh.”

He didn’t know anybody with that name. Maybe he was new? A freshman?

Marco felt himself go red again as the guy stretched. He looked back at Marco for a split second, but that second felt like an eternity. His brown eyes were fierce, and drilled into Marco’s soul with an unidentified intensity. Marco swallowed hard as the young man returned to his studies without hesitation.

‘Yup.’ he thought, finally, ‘You’re definitely being super weird about this.’

He considered going over and introducing himself. Surely “Kirstein” needed company or assistance as he studied. The library was empty aside from the two of them. But Armin may be back any second and….

“Marco!”

He was snatched from his thoughts by the whisper next to his ear. He jumped, yet again, as he turned to see Armin pull out a chair next to him and sit down.

“Sorry it took so long. Apparently they thought my name was ‘Aaron’, so there was a bit of a… Woah, man, are you okay? You look pale...”

Marco’s heart slowed to a normal pace as Armin set down his coffee, took his own book, and opened it to the same section he was in.

“Y-yeah!” Marco whispered back, “I’m fine…”

With another glance at “Kirstein”, Marco’s heart sank as he saw another guy walk up to him and sit in front of the young man. The two had a bit of an exchange, it seemed, and then ducked their heads down to work. Marco wondered why they used their hands so much when the spoke.

Armin caught Marco’s gaze, and made a small noise. “Oh, do you know them?”

Marco shook his head slightly. “No, but I was thinking about inviting the one in the hoodie to come join us, though.”

He sighed.

“Why don’t you invite them both?” Armin suggested, taking a sip from the coffee that he had brought. “The more the merrier, especially if we’re studying the same thing…”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Marco muttered, pulling his book closer. “They’re probably busy anyway.”

He and Armin buried themselves in their work, and Marco couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as he took one final look at that grossly intriguing man.

 

“Good LORD, is it that late already?” Armin exclaimed as he looked up and stretched.

The sun had started to set, and the cicadas were singing loudly outside. The low lighting seeped through the library’s large windows, casting an orange haze over everything and everyone inside the room. Armin began gathering his things, reaching across Marco to grab a grey binder and a pencil bag.

“Wait,” Marco whispered, “You’re LEAVING?”

Armin nodded furiously. “It’s almost six, and I have somewhere I have to be.”

Marco noted the time. They’d been here for eight hours now, and he still had the names and plots of literary pieces swimming in his mind. “Holy hell. We really got into it, didn’t we?”

Armin chuckled as he zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. With a final brush of his blond hair, he haphazardly waved to Marco. “See you in class tomorrow, I reckon.”

“Yeah,” Marco smiled. “Thanks for your help, then. Text me if you need anything.”

Armin turned and began to leave, and Marco turned to face his work. Books were strewn across the table, alongside endless stacks of notes and notecards (all his, of course). He’d recruited Armin at the beginning of the semester to assist him in studying, as his first test grade was beyond cringeworthy. The blond had seen him fret, as they sat next to one another, and offered to help. The two had become a sort of two man team, one helping the other with the subject matter that he struggled with. Their grades had improved tenfold, and in the process they’d gained a friend. Marco enjoyed the Sunday study sessions with Armin, and he felt sad that the semester was now almost over. Maybe they would end up in the same class in the Spring? Marco sighed, and began to collect his belongings.

A quick glance upward, though, sent his heart into numerous aerial flips.

“Kirstein” was still there. And he was alone.

Now was his chance to meet this guy. Maybe go out for some coffee, or something a little stronger?

Marco blushed at the thought, and rushed to finish packing his bag. He prayed to whatever omniscient force worked in his universe that he wouldn’t mess this up, and rose.

He tried to work out what to say as he walked towards “Kirstein”.

‘Just learn his actual name, idiot,’ he though, again chastising himself for being weird.

Before he knew it, Marco was standing right behind the object of his strange infatuation. He cleared his throat, hoping to catch the guy’s attention.

He didn’t so much as flinch.

Again, Marco made a noise, almost like a cough, as he leaned over to try and catch “Kirstein’s” eye. Small white chords traced their way from earbuds that rested in the guy’s ears. Marco ran his head down his face.

‘That explains a lot.’ he thought.

Walking around the table to the front of “Kirstein”, he glanced at the papers on the table. Some were documents, others were doodles and noted upon. Most curiously was the sheet music that had been half filled. A piece titled “Silent Life - by Jean Kirstein” caught his eye immediately. Only a few lines had been written on the page. He wondered what it would sound like played.

‘Jean,’ Marco mouthed. ‘What a great name…’

Jean himself didn’t seem to notice Marco, as he kept scratching away at the piece of paper in front of him. Marco made the noise again, but didn’t get a response. He stood there and wondered how loud the guy had his music playing.

He leaned down a bit, and waved at Jean. “Hey.”

Jean finally noticed him, and peeked up from his work. Marco smiled as those fierce eyes met his again, and his heart lept. His curiosity was well placed. Jean had a sense of mystery about him, and it fit well with his long face and small lips. Marco wondered how those lips would feel against his. He snapped himself from those thoughts, as Jean didn’t even say a word and went back to work. His smile died, and he tried again.

“Jean, right?”

Jean looked up again, but this time shook his head furiously.

“.... So you’re name isn’t Jean?” Marco pressed. “What is your name then, if I may ask?”

Jean scowled at him and motioned to the headphones.

“Oh…” Marco said. “Take them out, then?” He motioned like he was removing his own.

Jean shook his head again, and tried to keep writing.

“So…” Marco lulled, a bit torn by the fact Jean wasn’t responding. “You just won’t… Talk.. To me? Because I was kind of wondering if you’d like to--”

Jean looked up, and scowled even deeper. He began to gather his things, rather hurriedly as it would seem. Marco’s heart sank. He was definitely being super weird, and now he’d made an ass of himself in front of a complete stranger.

“I-I’m sorry, I should go, I guess--”

“Ehdeot, ahm deaph.”

It took Marco a second to comprehend what he’d just heard. The few words uttered by Jean had a bit of pain behind the annoyance. “E-excuse me?”

Jean slammed his hands down on the table. His cheeks were red, and his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. “Ah-ahm DEAPH, stubid! Deaph. 

He motioned to his ears, and then began to flail his hands in front of his chest wildly. The motions Jean was making, Marco realized, was Jean  _signing_ something to him.

“O-oh! I’m so- so so sorry, oh my god…” Marco took a step back, horrified that he’d not realized sooner. That exchange that Jean and his partner had earlier must have been an entire conversation in a silent language. Hell, Jean could be telling him his life story now and Marco wouldn’t understand a single word of it.

Jean was still signing as both he and Marco flushed in embarrassment. He slammed his hands on the table once again and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. His hands moved as quickly as they had when they were close to his chest and before Marco could say anything else Jean had thrust the paper at him, grabbed the last of his things, signed one last time, and left. Marco watched as Jean stormed out of the library before he realized he could hear his own heart in his ears. He clutched the notebook paper tightly in his hands.

How could he be so inconsiderate?

But what about the sheet music?

Was that guy really Jean, then?

A million questions flooded his mind as he finally looked at the note.

_“It’s a long story, asshole. One I really don’t want to get into. Don’t try it. It's not worth it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: That's actually Jean.   
> So this is the start of... Trash. 
> 
> It'll get longer! I promise!   
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Language Barrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the basics of Jean's evenings.

Jean sighed hard as the doors opened themselves.

He wanted to glance back at the guy, he did. He wanted to go back and apologize correctly. It wasn’t right for him to have snapped like that.

Jean knew he wouldn’t, though. He never did. It wouldn’t be worth it anyway.

So he left the library, replacing his headphones carefully in his ears and staring at the ground. The sun was almost completely devoured by the horizon, and the last rays of twilight seeped through the trees of the campus like flames. The streetlights were starting to come on one by one. The few students that still lingered around the area were waving goodbye to their friends and making way for their respective dorms.

He felt his heart beating in his chest as he began to let his hands flutter in front of him.

He’d signed to himself as a relaxing method, and nothing else. He recalled not being able to talk to anyone when he was younger, as the language barrier had been a difficult one. When there’s no one else, who better to vent to than yourself?

His fingers moved nimbly and swiftly as he remembered the poor guy.

_He was kind of cute, what with all those freckles._

_Yeah, but I know what happens when I think someone will turn out._

_Maybe I could’ve taught him to sign?_

_...No. That’s just a waste of time._

_But I taught Eren what he didn’t know._

_That was different, though._

_Shit._

_I should’ve apologized at least._

_But I did, just not in a way he would understand._

_It always seems to go like that, doesn’t it?_

Jean sighed again, shoving his hands into his hoodie’s pocket. The air was brisk, the feeling of winter chasing the last winds of fall out of the way so that they could settle in. Pretty soon he and Eren would have to pull out the larger coats, or buy new ones.

 _Probably buy new ones…_ He found himself thinking. _Lord knows what creatures got into storage…_

He rounded the corner.

Thankfully, nobody was at the bus stop, so his wait could be done in peace. The metal bench was freezing when he sat down. He shivered. The beating of his heart continued, and seemed to travel down his body as he leaned back and rested his head on the back of the bench.

_Of course, had I just left with Eren earlier…_

_Yeah, but then again I KNOW what he left for._

_His phone was restless._

_I knew that guy was staring at me.._

_Stop being self-conscious._

_He couldn’t have known._

_Most people get the hint when they see the headphones. If that doesn’t scream “don’t bother me” I don’t know what does._

He realized he was signing to nobody again, and rolled his eyes. He needed to find a better way to occupy his down time.

In Jean’s pocket, his phone vibrated. The small buzzing sensation against his stomach tickled. Pulling it out, he promptly recognized Eren’s contact photo and opened the text.

_“We’re done now, if you’re on your way home.”_

Jean smirked, and let his fingers type out a single word reply. _“Slut.”_

It was a second before Eren responded. _“Fuck you.”_

His own laugh rumbled in his chest. It was coarse. He realized he didn’t like the way it felt.

He stopped promptly, and snarked back. _“You would, slut. wtg walking yourself right into that one.”_

Eren sent back a middle finger emoji as the bus pulled up. Jean tucked his phone away. No doubt they’d have another exchange at home. With one last look around the now vacant street, Jean kind of wished he’d run into the guy again.

He boarded the bus feeling guilty.

 

It was the same old, same old on the bus ride to his and Eren’s apartment. The harsh shakiness of the bus rattled his head, and the occasional dirty look from an older patron of public transportation was amusing. He drowned it out by shutting his eyes.

 

He had forgotten how chilly it was outside in the short time it took for the bus to get from the university to his downtown flat. He got out his keys as a chill ran down his spine. The tips of his fingers pulsed alongside his heart as he walked up to the front door and unlocked it. The world around him was dark now, save for the few lampposts that illuminated the rustic street. In the distance, the lights of the larger section of town glowed ominously. Jean appreciated the halo of orange that could be seen, and entered the apartment.

He was stopped short, quite literally, by someone he’d seen all too often leaving his home. Professor Ackerman nodded to Jean as he brushed by quickly, and Jean returned the favor. Jean had nothing against the guy. It was just a bit perturbing that he was screwing Jean’s best friend. The Professor pulled up the collar of his coat and turned back to yell something to Eren, then nodded at Jean once more and left.

Jean secured the door behind the Professor, Levi, as Eren referred to him, and made sure to slam it.

Eren should _love_ that.

Sure enough, the brunet appeared from around the corner, a scowl on his face that was rivaled only by Jean’s. His emerald eyes were wide and hazy, but twinkled with the aftermath of the unspeakable. He was topless, and his pale chest was littered with bite marks and scratches that were pink and fresh. His boxers hung loosely off of his hips, which were covered by the marks as well.

Jean rolled his eyes, and began signing. _Slut._

Eren flipped him off, and signed back. _At least I’m getting some._

_Slut._

Eren made a show of scoffing. _Whatever._

Jean smiled, though, and set his bag down. His shoes slipped off easily, and his keys went on the hook next to Eren’s. He’d known Eren since youth and had been grateful to have someone with whom he could talk, even if they annoyed the hell out of each other most of the time.

Turning back to Eren, Jean caught the last of something Eren had been saying. _…what you needed?_

 _Hey dipshit,_ Jean sassed, A _SL only works when the deaf person sees what the hell you did._

Eren rubbed his eyes and said something out loud, then repeated what he’d signed. _Did you understand my notes? Did they cover what you needed?_

Jean nodded. He began to tell Eren about what had happened, but decided against it. Eren cocked his head, because he’d seen Jean raise his hands to say something. Jean recovered by asking, _You wanna order some Thai?_

Eren shook his head. _Levi took me out earlier_.

Jean rolled his eyes again.

 _S-L-U-T._ He signed out each letter to emphasize his point.

Eren sighed. _There’s some leftovers in the fridge for you, though. Asshat._

 _Oh, you’re so nice,_ Jean replied, walking towards the kitchen. He turned around to Eren one last time before disappearing behind the corner. _For a manwhore._

He chuckled as he felt the house shake with frustration. Eren had hit the wall, and Jean liked to think he did it with his head.

 

Their flat was very quaint and homey, with a living room and kitchen branching off of the entryway. At the rear of the entryway was a staircase that lead to the second floor, which were where Eren and Jean’s rooms were, as well as a bathroom. It was a bit lavish for a pair of college students, but with Jean’s disability and Eren’s dad’s help they were able to live comfortably.

 

Jean opened the fridge and pulled out the styrofoam box that had his name scrawled on the top. Opening it up, he was delighted to see that Eren had saved him some alfredo from that Italian restaurant they both liked.

It amused him how Eren was able to con Levi into taking him to places where Eren could lowkey include Jean.

Though they didn’t go out in public much, considering Levi was married.

He let the thought trail off there. He didn’t like to judge.

Jean grabbed a fork from the drawer and dug into his food. He preferred it cold, anyway.

 

After a semi-warm shower (Eren had used all the hot water while Jean was eating, damn him) and a hasty wrap up of an unfinished assignment, Jean found himself staring at the ceiling and thinking about that guy.

_Why, though?_

_I don’t know._

_I guess I still feel bad?_

_No. I…. Politely informed him of his misassumption._

He _was wrong._

With a gross finality of the argument, Jean ran his hands across his face and turned to watch the wall. The lights of stray cars that would occasionally pass by on the street below, the beams tossing and turning in a ballet of fire on the wall. Not being able to hear the nonsensical ambience of life had made Jean notice and appreciate the small things like that in life. He drifted off to the gracefulness of these lights, as he did most nights, and his dreams were nonexistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh I know I said there'd be more, but story beginnings are always slow for me. Sorry, guys. 
> 
> Also, thanks for all the great comments! I know there are only a few, but this is my first public fanfic so... Ahhhh... 
> 
> This will be continued, eventually. I wanted to split this chapter into two sections, and this is the first half of those sections. Be prepared for more Jean and Eren shenans in college!!  
> Have a great weekend! Thanks for reading!


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